


Alternatives

by zvous



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Low Chaos (Dishonored), so far at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 14:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6708433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zvous/pseuds/zvous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One kill is all it takes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternatives

**Author's Note:**

> so im doing a low chaos run, and i hadnt killed anyone until lady boyles last party. and i hate the thought of turning her over to that man so i killed her. 
> 
> i certainly felt enough guilt, so im sure corvo did too.

The quakes of Tallboys’ legs ripple the water around the boat, and Samuel bounces his leg uneasily. His hand is glued around the ignition, ready to start the motor at a moment's notice. 

As on edge as he is, he hears the faint rustling of fabric above him, and he looks up just in time to see Corvo leap into the water. Once Corvo got both legs in the boat, Samuel powers away, all concentration on getting out of there as fast as he can. 

It's only once they reach the open river that he can focus on other things than escape, and he lets out a small, shaky laugh as he turns away from looking behind the boat, adrenaline slowly fading away. “Man, Corvo, what did you do to get them that agitated?” 

Then his eyes focus, and he realizes Corvo is still as a statue, left hand open on his knee, right hand holding his sword over his lap. It takes a second to realize that both the blade and his hands are red. 

A hard knot settles somewhere in Samuel’s stomach. glancing rapidly from the still-wet blood to Corvos mask. There’s no words from him, just complete stillness. 

“Corvo?” 

No answer, Corvo’s eye sockets locked on his sword. 

“Corvo.” 

Still nothing. Samuel’s hands begin to shake where they rest on the rudder. He pulls it slowly towards him to avoid a tangle of seaweed, and inhales, closes his eyes. Exhales. Corvo hadn’t killed before, the reports of city guards saying they felt a pressure around their necks before blacking out far too numerous, and the reports of dead guards found, non-existent. He’s not a killer. There’s no reason to be scared of him. 

He opened his eyes. The man still hadn't moved. 

“Are you okay?”

For a few seconds, nothing. Samuel was about to go back to keeping his eyes on the horizon, one hand drumming against his seat, when Corvo let out a muffled sob. The sword was flung overboard, sinking as soon as it hit the surface. Corvo clawed at his mask and it clattered to the ground, and he frantically tried to kick it away, the boat too small for it to move past the opposite seat. Then he froze. Samuel knew this was not a time to ask anything, or to start the boat moving, so he waited. Corvo’s breath started again, short, shallow little breaths that quickly escalated to great, heaving gasps, eyes fixated on the lifeless eyes of the mask beneath him. 

Samuel stopped the motor, and let the boat drift to a slow bobbing over the waves. Corvos breathing? gasping? was loud on the still river, and Samuel inched to the edge of his seat, only slightly fearful of what might occur when he stretched out his hand to rest on Corvo’s shoulder. 

Corvo inhaled, seemingly about to launch into another bout of hyperventilating, but stopped. His teeth clacked shut, and he held his breath. Squeezed his eyes closed. 

“I'm sure it couldn't have been helped, Corvo.” He was hoping that use of his name, grounding him, might let him calm down. 

There was no response for a minute, two, just the water lapping at the edges of the boat, Corvo’s soft, shallow breathing. Then he seemed to come back to himself, blinking rapidly and looking tentatively around him. Samuel let his hand drift back down to his side, and Corvo looked up at him as though seeing him for the first time. He looked at the boat, the water, the mask, the sword, and his hands. 

“I didn’t want to.” 

His voice was small, almost childlike, and hoarse, throat scratched from breathing, voice wary from disuse. He clasped his hands together, shoving them between his knees as he slowly began to rock with the motions of the boat. “I didn't want to. But I couldn't give her to him, I couldn’t. He warned me of him, and death had to have been better than-” he cut himself off quickly. Samuel didn’t quite know what Corvo was trying to say, but he certainly understood death being the better of two options. 

He started the motor again, the edge of the Hound Pits dock just in sight. The rest of the ride was spent in silence, Corvo looking solemnly into the waters. Just as Samuel was about to pull up, Corvo bit his lip, and grabbed his arm. 

“Please don’t tell the others.” 

Samuel offered a weak smile. “You didn’t even have to ask.” 

Corvo didn't quite manage a smile in return, but he picked the mask up off the floor, hooked it onto his belt, and readied himself to disembark. 

And that was good enough for now. 

\----

He scrubs his hands, the dirty water flowing red, then pink, then clear. He scrapes at his nails, and the last red flecks slide down the drain. He stuffs his overcoat under his bed, along with the mask he doesn’t see as his own, and the faintly shining runes and bone charms he kept on him. 

Looking, if not feeling, better, he walked silently to his window, closing his door behind him, and made his way across the rusted metal of the workshop roof to the tower. He knocked softly, and hearing nothing within, he slowly pushed the door open. 

Both Callista and Emily are sound asleep, and Corvo makes his way over to the chair by Emily’s bedside. For once, she sleeps peacefully, and he runs a clean hand through her hair, smiling.


End file.
